


Cold Feet

by marksmanfem



Series: Boondock Saints OC Arc [3]
Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Cold, F/M, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marksmanfem/pseuds/marksmanfem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she gets too cold, Murphy is there to warm her up. 3rd in my Boondock Saints OC arc. Takes place a few months after "Next Stop." Rated E for smut and some language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhanon_Brodie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhanon_Brodie/gifts).



I wake up shivering in the frigid Boston night. There is no reason on God’s green that it should ever be this cold anywhere. I roll over and attempt to wrestle some covers from Connor but give up after a fruitless struggle. I think “cocooned” and “comatose” are the right words. I sigh and roll away, groggily trying to think of some way to get warm.

Hell, I can see my breath in here. 

Finally, I give in to the inevitable and scoot quickly across the freezing floor to Murphy’s mattress. Though he’s similarly wrapped in his own blanket, he’s also thankfully easier to wake. And it’s not like I haven’t had to resort to this before. I poke him between the shoulders and whisper his name. I get a bit of a grumble, but nothing else, so I take my freezing cold feet and shove them under the blanket right against his legs. With a very satisfying yelp, Murphy jumps and rolls to face me, his hands pinning mine to the mattress. 

Oh, God, he’s so warm.

“Mary Mother of God, woman, what th’ fuck?!?”

I put on my most pitiful expression and say faintly, “My nose is even colder…please? Can I?”

He glares at me a moment, his hands still clutching my wrists (so…very…warm), but he finally relents and holds his blanket up for me to scooch in against his chest.

“Ye could’ve chosen a more polite way to wake a man, ye know,” he grumbles, pulling me close and tucking the blanket in around us.

“Your brother could also not sleep like the dead, but here we are.” I grin cheekily at him until he reluctantly returns it with that wonderful smirk of his. I close my eyes, basking in the furnace of his heat. I’m just about to drift off when Murphy speaks again, softer this time, right against my ear.

“Ye could just start the night out with me in the first place, lass. Then ye could be sleepin’ wit’ me instead o’ wakin’ me up.”

I’m half asleep, but his lips against my skin jolt me back awake. I glance over at him and smile, trying to make a joke out of his comment; surely he’s not serious. “But then I wouldn’t get to make you jump and squeal like a girl, would I?”

Instead of smiling back this time, he fixes me with his intense gaze long enough to make me squirm. He leans forward until his lips are against my ear again and murmurs, “I could make you jump an’ squeal like a girl…good way to get some warmth and feelin’ back into yer…extremities.” His warm breath washes over my freezing skin as his arms tighten around me, heated bands of steel rope in the cold night, and his lips linger on my ear a little longer than necessary.

Color me confused.

I start to reply, trying to think of something witty, but I’m stumped. This isn’t our usual banter, and he seems so…serious. We’ve flirted before (who wouldn’t flirt with Murphy?), but he’s never been this intense about it, and definitely not when I was in bed with him at the time. I’ve only ever slept on his mattress with him to get warm when Connor takes all the blankets, never with any actual intent to seduce. 

Lately, though, for some reason I’ve been ending up sleeping in Murph’s bed more often than Connor’s. It’s not like I’m on the outs with Connor, he just sleeps like the dead and steals covers; but he’s also been leaving me alone more with Murphy lately, too, which I suppose is fine. I figure he just wants me to get to know his other half (or better half, as Murphy refers to himself) a little better so there’s no awkwardness amongst the three of us. I don’t ever feel neglected when I’m with the two of them, and sometimes it’s more attention than I can honestly handle. Between the verbal flirting and the physical familiarities we shared, sometimes I wondered what the three of us appeared to be to outsiders. Then I decide I’m pretty sure I don’t care.

Now would be one of those intense, almost-too-much-attention-to-handle moments.

I swallow hard, my smile wavering as my mind begins to panic a little. I’m acutely aware of every centimeter of my skin that is pressed to Murphy’s, but I’m just as hyper-aware of Connor the Comatose sleeping a few feet away. My nerve endings are on fire, and I have to physically restrain myself for a moment. There’s always been a weird energy between Murphy and me. Nothing uncomfortable: if anything, I’m more relaxed around him than I am anyone else, save with Connor. He’s easy to talk to, easy to hang out with, easy to flirt with. It’s almost a little too easy with Murph sometimes. 

So easy, in fact that until this moment I never realized this energy, this strange feeling between us would be that penny in the air. Y’know, that proverbial one that’s about to drop? I have a flashback to a few different occasions when I’d walk in on a conversation between the boys and they’d stop for a moment, glancing at me, then start up again in another language. I tended to just shake my head at them and continue on with whatever I was doing at the time. I figured if it’s something I need to know, they’ll tell me. Penny in the air.

Penny dropped.

“Is…you’re sure…you and Connor are…okay with this?” I’m a little breathless as I stare wide-eyed at him. I’m not even sure that counts as a complete sentence, but Murphy seems to catch my drift.

“Ye know I’d never steal a girl out from under me brudder. However,” he continues, his smirk returning, “when one so willin’ly crawls into me bed so often, we two can’t help but wonder if some sorta…arrangement might be had, if th’ female part of the equation were agreeable to it as well.”

I can’t look directly at him right now; I feel like someone’s lit a fire in my face, and it’s spreading through my whole body…particularly where it happens to come in contact with Murphy. “So, you’re…what…swapping me back and forth now?” I don’t feel abandoned so much as shuffled around, but I guess I’m not entirely put out. 

Not yet, anyway. Depends on his answer.

Murphy’s smirk softens and he takes my chin between his thumb and finger, turning me to look into his eyes. “No one’s forcin’ ye to move on before yer ready. We’re simply offerin’ the option, if ye might be so inclined.” 

Somehow, I actually do feel a little better. I frown for a moment, not unhappily, simply thinking. It’s not like Connor and I are always serious, or honestly even exclusive. I know he’s seen other girls occasionally since we’ve been together (I guess I’m just the one he keeps coming back to), and I know I have the option to see other guys. 

It never would have occurred to me to look to Murphy, though. Surely there’s some sort of…I don’t know, Man Law or something that states, “Thou shalt not goeth after thy brother’s woman, especially if thy brother is thine twin.” Or something like that. But I can’t honestly imagine Murphy doing something like this without Connor’s okay. They can’t even go to the bar alone without seeming just a little lost for the evening.

So…I guess this has Connor’s stamp of approval, so to speak.

I look back at Murphy’s face, and I can see he knows he’s won. I open my mouth to say something, I’m not sure what; maybe an insincere protest that this will make things weird between all of us now or how I don’t want to ruin our friendship, etc, but he cuts me off with lips and tongue, and suddenly I’m not so worried about friendship anymore.

As Murph deepens the kiss and pulls me even closer, I’m quickly reminded of just how little clothing the twins sleep in, despite the arctic weather and lack of heat in the loft. When Murph wraps his leg around my hip and rolls over, pulling me under him, I groan into his mouth and run my hands down to his waist, tugging on the top of his boxers.

His forehead against mine, he pulls away long enough to draw in a ragged breath and grin at me, muttering, “Fer someone who was so reluctant jus’ a second ago, ye sure are eager t’strip me down.”

I don’t even bother answering as he quickly pulls my t-shirt over my head, exposing me to the cold air. Before I can begin shivering he pulls the blanket over his head, enclosing us in a tiny, blanketed cave. I reach up tentatively, unsure of myself again, and let my fingers run over the taught muscles of his shoulders and arms, my fingertips coming to rest lightly on his chest. It’s been so long since I was with anyone except Connor, I feel like I should feel awkward, but I don’t. I’m about to sleep with the brother of the man I’m sleeping with. Aren’t I supposed to feel guilty about this even if they don’t? 

“Stop thinkin’ so hard on it, lass.” That penetrating gaze again. “If he’s alrigh’ wit’ it, and I’m of t’same mind, there’s nothin’ fer you to be worryin’ over.” He lowers himself until he’s pressed against the length of me and I can feel every inch of him heating me through. He brushes his fingers over my cheek and gently rolls his hips against mine; a fantastic jolt runs outward from that point of contact, and I involuntarily push my hips against his. My pulse quickens, my eyes squeeze shut, and my head rolls back as I stifle a groan and my fingers bunch into fists against his chest. “S’long as yer not averse to it yerself. Now, are ye still going to fret, or can I get to warmin’ ye up?”

I am so sick of being cold.

Without any more hesitation, I quickly help Murphy rid himself of his boxers, after which he returns the favor. I hiss in a sudden intake of breath as Murphy’s teeth graze my collarbone, and I turn my head away to give him better access as he continues to kiss and lick his way toward my shoulder. I let out a ridiculous moan when he finds the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and proceeds to leave what I’m sure will be a rather remarkable bruise. He uses his tongue to sooth the tender area, and wave of heat and pleasure ripples through me. I’m not even aware I’ve moaned his name until his face returns to mine. He answers me softly, smirking, before his lips brush mine teasingly. I kiss him back hard, startling both Murphy and myself for a moment before the kiss deepens and his tongue curls against mine.

Suddenly the kiss is over, and his face is gone from mine. My eyes fly open, and I start to sit up in protest, but before I can say anything his mouth finds one of my breasts, and I forget why I was upset in the first place. Tiny shivering jolts run though my body as my back arches, pushing my breasts closer to him. My hands reach for something, anything, to hold onto as Murphy’s teeth scrape roughly over my nipple, followed by his tongue, and my fingers tangle in his hair. Murphy slowly, patiently pushes me back down to the mattress even as he moves his assault to my other breast.

I can feel him pressed hard against my thigh, and my hips grind against him of their own accord. I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore, but I know that I need to feel him inside me…badly…and right now. 

Luckily, Murphy’s just as good as his brother about taking hints

A deep moan escapes one of us (don’t know who, don’t care which) as he slides into me as far as he can go. Neither of us moves for a moment as he stares into my eyes. I shudder once, not from the cold, and he unconsciously mirrors the action, never looking away. He pulls out slowly, still gazing down at me, then suddenly thrusts hard enough to startle a yelp from me. He repeats the motion, slowly pulling out, then a hard fast thrust, over and over until I’m about to scream for him to speed up. I refrain, though, as I am thoroughly enjoying myself and don’t particularly want to end this…you know, ever. 

A delicious heat is building inside me, and Murphy’s face tenses as his head drops. His rhythm becomes more ragged, his thrusting more intense, and I grab his shoulders, my nails digging into sweat-slick skin. I try to use my hold on him for leverage, try to keep pace with the force of his thrusts, but I can’t keep up with him and I growl with frustration. Murphy pauses in mid-thrust and raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean ‘stop’!” I protest. Oh, God, if he stops, I think every muscle in my body might implode from sheer tension. “I just…I wanted…I couldn’t keep up with you!”

Except that now he’s sliding out of me, moving backwards (No no no NO!). But then he turns, taking my hands and pulling me with him until he’s reclining back against the wall and I’m straddling him. I raise my eyebrows at him questioningly, and he answers with that smirk of his.

“Well, see, this way, you can set th’ pace, and I can just sit back and enjoy th’ show. Then you don’t have t’worry about keepin’ up wit’ me.” That wonderful, slappable smirk.

Well…fine, then.

I narrow my eyes at Murphy, at a loss for words. I raise up a little, positioning myself over him, then gradually inch my way down onto his cock until I’m sitting on him. I thought he filled me before, but this…this is beyond intense, and I need several moments just to get used to this position. Connor is usually the in-control type, so I’m not used to being in the driver’s seat. I’m tentative at first, trying to find a rhythm, but of course Murphy isn’t making this any easier. He props his arms behind his head like a pillow and watches me with that damned smirk still on his face.

No free rides tonight, mister.

I stop moving and level a glare at him until he shifts uncomfortably, looking a little chagrined. I nod, satisfied, then reach out and take his hands. I place one on my ass, and when he moves to mirror the action with his other hand, I stop him. He glances at me, curious, but I don’t quite meet his eyes, my face flaming. 

“What is it ye want, lass?”

“I…”can’t bring myself to say it out loud. I don’t know why; I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. I’m awkward; it’s a fact of my life, and I came to accept it long ago. When it comes to actually saying what I want, I can’t even get a simple request out. I huff out a sigh, irritated with myself. Fuck it. I want this too much to screw it up with hesitation. I tug his hand closer, placing it firmly between my legs. I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes, ignoring his amused expression.

“I want you to touch me, Murphy.” Wow…the world didn’t end. Good to know.

He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and turns his hand palm-up between us. As I roll my hips forward, he raises one of his fingers to let my clit slide forward over it, sending tremors through me. I gasp at the sensation and almost stop before I remember that I’m controlling it. So…yeah, definitely no stopping. As I begin to move faster, Murphy presses upwards with his thighs and his hand between us, applying even more pressure to my clit. His other hand grips my ass firmly, pulling me hard against him every time I move forward.

I need balance suddenly, and one of my hands finds the wall while the other finds the back of Murphy’s head, accidentally bumping his face between my breasts (he doesn’t seem to mind much). I’m so hot now I’m shocked that there’s no steam coming off of us. I’m not even remotely self-conscious as I thrust harder, almost bouncing on Murphy’s lap. He’s switched to two fingers now, grinding them against me so hard it’s almost painful. My moan is low and guttural, a growl more than anything else.

“God, Murph, please.” Except entirely I’m not sure what I’m asking for.

Thank God Murphy does. 

He groans deep in his throat, eyes closed now, and he pulls his fingers from between. Just as I’m about to protest, he grabs my ass with both hands now, thrusting upwards, using his hands for leverage to slam me even harder against him. The third time he does that, something detonates in my core, and I let out a hoarse cry that, if I were paying attention to anything else right now, I’d be worried would wake Connor, but to be honest again, I just don’t care. A searing fire sweeps through me; I gasp Murphy’s name, my sweat-slick palm losing friction on the wall, and I collapse, pushing him back again. He convulses beneath me, his breathing harsh, loud, and infinitely hot against my chest, his fingers digging into my ass.

Connor’s snores are the only other sound in the large room. At least we didn’t wake him. Small favors and all that.

Still shuddering, I begin to disentangle myself, and Murphy lowers me to his side as he slides down the wall to lie on his mattress. His breathing is still ragged as he gathers me against his chest. With a shaking hand, I grab the blanket and try to arrange it back in place before I get too cold again. After some fumbling I manage to get the stupid thing over both of us and drop my head against Murphy’s chest. His breath ruffles my hair as I listen to our heart rates return to normal. 

As I start to drift off again I hear Murphy mumble, “Jesus Christ, woman. After all that, how t’hell can yer feet still be freezin’?” 

I smile. “Lord’s name, Murphy. Your mother’d be ashamed.”


End file.
